


Thunder Crashing

by orphan_account



Series: Hipsters and Cafes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe- non magic, Fluff, Insults, Kissing, M/M, Nerdy James, Oblivious Sirius, PoC, author reading, author!Remus, cafe setting, meet cute, punk rock Sirius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5068561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, Sirius, you don’t strike me as the shy, insecure type.”</p><p>Sirius’ eyes lowered to glaring slits.  “I’m not.  It’s just…I don’t usually get chatted up by blokes I spent ten minutes insulting.”</p><p>Remus tightened his grip.  “I wasn’t insulted.  I also meant what I said.  I hate what I write.  But I make okay money.”</p><p>It was Sirius’ turn for a full-bodied laugh, and he shook his head.  “That’s fair.  I tried to be a starving, tortured artist.  Found I could pay my bills better on a graphic designer salary.”</p><p>Remus’ face lit up with such joy, it almost caused Sirius physical pain.  “I really want to kiss you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder Crashing

**Author's Note:**

> So I got inspired by this Tumblr post 
> 
> http://spookyscarycastiels.tumblr.com/post/131832348342/habitatfordeanwinchester
> 
> With the prompt: “i’m being forced to go to a poetry reading by this visiting author i’ve never heard of and i’m waiting for it to start when you sit down next to me and i try to make conversation, and yup, you’re the fucking author” au
> 
> It's not University Fic really, but it's the same concept. I chose writing though because I'm shit at poetry. This isn't long, I just sort of banged it out right now.

“God I hate you. You are so fucking pretentious.” Standing outside the small café, Sirius ran his hand back through his hair, a cigarette clenched between his teeth. His narrow, grey eyes were glaring at his best mate.

The dark-skinned man with impossibly wild hair and thick-framed glasses, glowered at his friend. “I’m pretentious. Me? Right yes okay, Mr I can’t listen to anything that doesn’t come on vinyl which hasn’t been released after 1971, and all of my t-shirts have to come from thrifts shops and only after I’ve been sure they were actually worn once to a Pixies concert.”

“That is punk rock,” Sirius hissed. “Not pretentious. The kind of punk rock that doesn’t drag his mates to some fucking book reading at some obscure, hipster café which doesn’t serve dairy in their lattes.”

“You don’t even use dairy, you fuck. You’re lactose intolerant.”

“James. Jim. Jamie,” Sirius said, waving a hand at his friend, “it doesn’t matter if I don’t. The fact is they’re pretentious. Just like you.”

“You’re doing this because I fucking love this guy, and he never has gigs here. Okay. This is a secret reading. Secret.”

“Fucking hipster bullshit, secret readings. This is just the swotty version of some indie band playing a secret show at some dive bar, okay?” Sirius crushed the cigarette out under the heel of his motorbike boot, then stood up straight to adjust his leather jacket. “He’d better be really good.”

James huffed. “You won’t like him. But you’ll like him more than Lily does which is why I brought you instead of her.”

“Or Pete,” Sirius added.

“Or Pete,” James amended. “Mostly because he’d fall asleep and start snoring and then I’d have to kill him and I don’t fancy that paperwork.”

“What the fuck ever, Detective Potter,” Sirius groused, still—apparently—slagging James for his promotion at the Met. 

Sirius was a graphic designer by trade, but still had the artist’s temperament, which was tempermenting all over the damned street because he just did not want to be here. 

“Will you just come inside? They serve beer. And I brought three of my books for autographs so you can read over one and you won’t look like you have no idea what the fuck is going on.” James wrapped his arm round Sirius’ waist and dragged him inside.

The place was crowded for a Tuesday night, and Sirius glowered at the people who all looked just as excited as James did. “Secret show my arse,” Sirius muttered.

“I’ve reserved a table. Right there.” James pointed to a small, round one very near the front of the stage, off to the side of the beverage bar with a small ‘reserved’ sign on it. The queue for drinks was nearly to the door, and Sirius didn’t even have to tell James that he owed him. “And take these.” James shoved the books at him, and Sirius glowered.

With a huff, he stomped over and plonked down, taking the sign and tossing it to the floor because deep down he really was part four year old. At least his mood was. There was a tiny vase in the centre of the table as well, full of red and gold glass beads, and a daisy poking out. Feeling vindictive, he began to yank the petals out.

“She loves me, she loves me not.” The voice came from over his shoulder, then a body took what was supposed to be James’ chair.

With an incredulous expression, Sirius turned to look at the offending body and for a moment was taken aback. The man was taller than him by at least a full head. He had dark-tawny, tight curls all over the place, wide amber eyes, and a smattering of scars across his left cheek which cascaded down his neck.

He had a small espresso cup in his hand, his fingers looking absurdly large as they curled round it. Sirius pegged him for hipster immediately based on the threadbare jacket he wore, and the woollen beanie tightly stuck to the back of his head.

As though remembering it was on, the man reached back and pulled it off, tucking it into his pocket. “Who might the object of your affections be?”

“I don’t have objects of affections. I’m the object,” Sirius declared. And he was, most of the time. He was often described as too pretty for words.

“Well I’m glad to see that not every pretty person lets their looks go straight to their big heads.”

Sirius gapped at him, and the man gave him a smile so sunny and bright it caused his chest to clench. “That seat’s reserved, you know.”

“Where’s your friend?”

“Queueing for drinks,” Sirius replied with a sulk.

“So it’ll be a while. I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow it. I have to get up in a minute.”

Sirius’ eyes narrowed further. “You fucking fanboys.”

The man looked at him, then down at the books on the table. “You brought three. I’d say that’s close to fanboy status.”

Sirius flipped the cover open, then scoffed. “These are my mates. He likes this pretentious love shit. It’s not for me.”

“So not a fan?”

“No.” Sirius jutted his chin out, daring this man to argue with him. “Also R.J. Lupin. You know, only the really ridiculous authors go with initials for pennames.”

There was a pause, then the man laughed. “That’s fair, I suppose. Though I think it might depend on your definition of ridiculous.”

“Pretentious, hipster romantics.”

“Ah.” Reaching over, the man’s long fingers took the top book, thumbing through the pages. “Would it help your opinion of me if I told you I was not a fan?”

Sirius’ eyebrows went up. “I’m not sure I would believe you.”

“Well I’m here so again, fair. But I’m really not. I read over these words and think, what is he thinking? Why play into this ridiculous fantasy of love. I mean, the willing suspension of disbelief can only get you so far. And the world is full of pain and suffering, sharp edges and unforgiving ground. We navigate naked and barefoot, and people like this Lupin, they expect us to believe there’s goodness out there.”

Sirius was staring at him, a little surprised. “So why are you here?”

“Obligation.” He sat back and smiled again. “You?”

“My _former_ best mate dragged me. I mean honestly, I’ve got to sit here and listen to some writer with his head up his own arse read his books to a crowd? People think _I’m_ big-headed.”

Letting out a huge laugh, the man leant over and touched Sirius’ arm. White-hot heat coursed up through his sleeve. “It is a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit?” Sirius asked.

The man winked. “My name is Remus, by the way.”

After blinking a moment, “Sirius.” He paused a breath. “Like the star.”

“Fitting.”

Sirius quirked a brow. “How so?”

“From the moment I saw you I could tell you’d shine brighter than anyone else in this room.”

Sirius nearly choked on his own tongue. If it was a chat-up line, it was one of the best he’d ever heard. “I thought you were afraid of pretty words going to my big head.”

Remus shrugged, grinning again. “Your head can afford to get a little more swollen being that pretty.” He thumbed the book again, turning to a page, then letting it close. “Have you ever been in love, Sirius?”

“Why? You offering.”

Remus’ smile was wolfish. “Maybe. But mostly I’m just curious.”

Sirius felt something hot uncoil in his belly. “Once. But it was ages ago. I pined and then got over it. Shags help.”

Remus laughed, the sound pretty and all-encompassing. “Yes, they do, that. I myself have been in love a few times, but it’s never been that you know…” He startled Sirius by slamming his open palm on the top of the book. Several people looked over, but no one responded. “The kind that makes the entire room go still and quiet.”

Sirius barked. “You think that really exists?”

“I’m starting to wonder.” Amber eyes met grey ones and held them for so long, Sirius started to feel hot all over. “Listen, I have to do a thing in a few minutes, and maybe—and sorry if I’m reading these signs all wrong but—if you’re not busy after the reading…”

“Yeah no,” Sirius said, the words falling from his lips. Because goddamn but yeah, he wanted to. After. It was the least the Universe could do for forcing him to see this arsehole reading his own books to a crowd. “That could be good.”

“We can go for a drink, yeah? Wash the taste of pretentious authors out of our mouths.”

Sirius felt his cheeks rising in a blush. “Those are lofty promises, Remus. This guy is _really_ pretentious. Might take more than a drink.”

Remus blinked, then laughed once more. “I’m starting to wonder if maybe I was wrong about this Lupin. Maybe there are moments in life—few and far between—where you do find that deafening silence when you meet someone who is a constellation unto themselves. Someone like you, Sirius, isn’t just a star.”

Gulping, Sirius didn’t know what to say. Then he shook his head. “I hope you’re as good with the rest of your body as you are with your words.”

Remus winked, then started to get up. “These really aren’t your books?”

Sirius shook his head with a frown. “No. Why, are you lying about being a fan?”

Remus chuckled. “Believe me, I’m not. I think everything he writes is sheer crap.”

Sirius grinned, knife-sharp. “Well if it helps, I’ve never actually heard of this bloke. Jamie’s obsessed and his wife threatened him with bodily harm if he dragged her to one more of these swotty, indie functions. He’s lucky I love him.”

“I think anyone who earns your love would be.” Remus then reached over, bold and brash, and pressed his dry lips to the side of Sirius’ face. “Until after, yeah?”

Sirius wasn’t sure he could make his voice work when he nodded. “Yeah. After.”

*** 

James returned to the table five minutes later with two pints and a deep frown. “Who the hell was that? Did you seriously manage to pull a bloke whilst I was queuing for drinks?”

Sirius grinned at him. “I might have. Someone who is also here for the sheer obligation of it. He’s…” Sirius glanced round, but didn’t see him anywhere. “Whatever, he’s gone right now. But said he wants to meet after.”

James opened his book, pulling out a small scrap of paper. “His?”

Sirius snatched it, and looked down at the mobile number. “One way to find out.” He sent a text. ‘Non-hipster, guy. This you?’

A full minute passed and Sirius was beginning to wonder, but his mobile lit up. ‘Star-man. It’s me. Meet me round the back of the café after the book signing.’

Sirius showed James the text with a grin.

“I cannot believe it. I can’t take you anywhere,” James moaned, but it didn’t matter. He had his books, his pints, and was about to meet his favourite author.

“Welcome to our secret reading,” a woman said as she came up to the mic. She adjusted a small stool in front of it, smiling at the crowd. “We’re extremely pleased and proud to welcome a new up and coming author, R.J. Lupin. Tonight he will be doing a short reading selection from each of his three books, and after there will be a queue based on the number on your ticket for autographs. Please put your hands together for our guest of the evening.”

Sirius gave a slow golf clap as the lights dimmed, and a spotlight appeared on the stage. The author was very tall, and Sirius felt his heart thudding into his throat as the curly-haired, threadbare-coat wearing Remus stepped into the light, turned right to Sirius and gave him a wink, then sat down.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honour to be here, truly.” 

“Judas,” Sirius hissed.

“What?” James whispered back, leaning over.

“That’s him. That’s bloody him.”

James choked, then shook his head. “Oh fuck off, you did not pull Remus Lupin.”

“Remus Lupin,” Sirius repeated. “Fuck me. Oh fucking _fuck_ me. Jamie. Oh god what did I do.”

Remus was busy telling the synopsis of his first book, but paused before he turned the page and looked over at Sirius’ table. “I’m dedicating this particular reading to a certain bright star I met recently who reminded me of why I write stories like this. Stories about love which crashes soundlessly and unexpected, sweeping you off your feet and making you forget about the world and all her cruel, sharp edges.”

“Oh fuck me,” James said in a dead tone. “You fucking pulled my favourite author.”

*** 

Sirius refused to get up from the table when it was over. Remus caught his eye once more, giving him a wink before he was ushered to the autograph table. When James’ number was called, Sirius grabbed his arm. “Oh hell no. The fuck you’re going over there right now.”

James yanked himself away. “I want my autograph, Black.”

“Well I’m sure that can be arranged seeing as I’m supposed to have a date with him tonight. I think.” Sirius put his face in his hands. “He sat here for ten minutes listening to me tell him what a pretentious git I thought he was. I told him…fuck I told him he had his head up his own arse.”

James stared at him, then threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Only fucking you, Sirius. My god. How?”

“He’s going to kill me, isn’t he? Or set his fans on me or something.”

“He dedicated his first reading to you,” James reminded him. “I think you’re good, mate.”

Sirius dragged his hand down his face. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can. You’ve made me miss my spot in the autograph queue, the least you can do is…you know. Meet up with him. Introduce me. Oh my god what if you date. You’ll be dating Remus Lupin.”

“I won’t date him. Only because you’re going to do that, go all wobbly about the mouth and make that face,” Sirius hissed.

James wasn’t listening now, presumably plotting Remus and Sirius’ imaginary wedding in his head full of very gay, swotty nerd things.

Sirius chanced a look over where Remus was still signing autographs, and he got a wink. A fucking wink. His face went bright red and he stood up. “Well mate, that’s it for me. I can’t do this. I’ll see you later.” Then he was up and storming out.

“Sirius Black you fucking traitor!” James called, but Sirius didn’t stop.

*** 

Except that he did because he found himself out back of the café thirty minutes later waiting. No one was there, and he assumed by that point Remus wasn’t coming.

Then the door opened. He saw the side of the coat first, then the curly hair with the beanie back on, and the wide grin. When he set eyes on Sirius, his smile got wider and he stepped out onto the pavement.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

Sirius shrugged up one shoulder. “Considered fucking off. I mean, I spent ten full minutes telling you what an arse I thought you were.”

Remus laughed, his whole body shaking with it as he slid up to Sirius’ side. “Got a spare?” He eyed Sirius’ fag.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the pack and a lighter. Remus helped himself, taking a long, slow drag and letting the smoke fall from his lips. “Why’d you come out?”

“I asked you out, remember.”

Sirius lifted one, elegantly groomed brow. “Yes but…”

“You think you’re the first arrogant twat who insulted my work?”

Sirius felt his cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean…well. I mean…I haven’t even read them.”

“I know,” Remus said from behind a grin. He took another drag, watching Sirius over the V of his fingers. “You told me that as well.”

Sirius licked his lips. “You might be on to something though. About that feeling. Crashing through the room.”

Remus’ eyes crinkled with his smile. “Yeah. I know.” He edged closer. “You still want that drink?”

“Think I might need it after all this.” Sirius brought a shaking hand through his hair. “James is going to kill me, by the way.”

“Messy haired bloke, glasses?” 

“That’s him.”

Remus licked his lips. “He’s the one who told me to come out here and find you. He also asked me over for tea Sunday next.”

Sirius choked on the drag of cigarette he took. “Shit,” he said, his voice smoke-thick. 

“I said yes, after he said you’d be there.”

Sirius gave his own chest a thump, then coughed. “What?”

“I like tea.” Remus shrugged. He reached out with his free hand and curled his fingers round Sirius’ wrist. “I also like kissing.”

Sirius’ tongue darted out unconsciously and drew along his bottom lip. “Yeah?”

“You know, Sirius, you don’t strike me as the shy, insecure type.”

Sirius’ eyes lowered to glaring slits. “I’m not. It’s just…I don’t usually get chatted up by blokes I spent ten minutes insulting.”

Remus tightened his grip. “I wasn’t insulted. I also meant what I said. I hate what I write. But I make okay money.”

It was Sirius’ turn for a full-bodied laugh, and he shook his head. “That’s fair. I tried to be a starving, tortured artist. Found I could pay my bills better on a graphic designer salary.”

Remus’ face lit up with such joy, it almost caused Sirius physical pain. “I really want to kiss you.”

Sirius looked him dead in the eye. “I’m not stopping you, mate. I’m really not.”

Then he was yanked in, lips crashing hard, cigarettes dropped and forgotten so hands could wander into shirts, over the backs of necks, in through hair. Sirius let out a small whimper as Remus held him tight, and he could feel his heart crashing down to his stomach.

When they pulled apart, Remus was breathing heavy, pressing his forehead to Sirius’. “That’s what I call a thunder crash.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I reckon so.”

“So about that drink?”

Blinking, Sirius pulled back and drew his thumb along the bottom of Remus’ lips, looking up at his eyes. “You know my flat isn’t far.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus asked, his voice low.

“I’ve got my motorbike.”

Remus’ eyes darkened and he pulled Sirius in for another searing kiss before answering against the other man’s lips. “I think that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all damn night.”


End file.
